What if Alaric never intruded?
by Something Illusory
Summary: —3x06 DE scene uninterrupted— "I was faking most of it." She admits, feeling like a small child compared to the mature essence that is him. Softly he admits, "So was I."


"Give it to me, I can do it." she insisted impatiently. He was so…so…frustrating! Couldn't he just see that she wanted to do it herself? She didn't need anyone's help. Especially not for a few cuts on her face.

She had reached for the Q-tip and medication, aiming to pry it from his hands, but he pulled away in protest. "No, let me do it." He argued.

She reached for it again. Why couldn't he just let her do it? "Damon, c'mon I can-"

"Elena." his tone was fierce and serious. His eyes burned into hers and for a moment she found herself not able to look away. Softly now, "You almost got barbecued. The least I can do is apply first aid." He looked away, applying the medication to the Q-tip. She huffed, perched upon Damon's bathroom sink. She held very still while he reached up to gently dab her face with the goo. Coming into contact with her wound, it slightly stung her. She toughened it out, determined not to show the slightest bit of weakness. She was utterly aware of how gentle he was being with her.

"There." He whispered, satisfied. She blinked, unsure on how to phrase what she was wanted to say next.

"You..uh..played your part of the plan pretty well tonight." She said casually, as if the statement had no meaning upon her. She refused to meet his eyes as he began dabbing at her cheek once more with the soft Q-tip.

"Oh yeah?" His answer is simple. She almost expects a cocky remark to flow out of him but it doesn't. Not tonight.

Still looking down she confirms, "Yeah..you had Rebekah drooling all over you and your marshmallows." She knows she's being a little…well, snarky about it, but could you blame her? The feeling that surged through her while watching Damon flirt with Rebekah was undeniable. It was a sinking, gutsy feeling that she knew all too well. But still she denied it. It wasn't what she thought it was. It wasn't what _Stefan_ thought it was. Her gaze falls on his face, accusation in her eyes.

He doesn't fail to notice it: the way she's looking at him. The way she points out his flirting techniques from earlier in the night nonchalantly. Oh, it's all too fun. But he smirks, replying, "Yeah, before she skewered me."

She looks away briefly, realizing that she had hurt him. He appeared to be fine now but, what was she doing while he was hurt? Right. Off with Stefan.

"I thought you were too drunk to notice." He says. He blinks his eyes at her, and she can suddenly feel the weight of his gaze. The twinkling, fun look in them that makes her want to shiver. She also feels ashamed in a way. Ashamed because Damon had seen her acting ridiculous and stupid. An average teenage girl drinking away her sorrows just to piss off her ex-boyfriend.

Her face drops and she looks at him incredulously. He's teasing her, isn't he? Sighing once, she lets her eyes fall to her lap. All the mean while he is still dabbing at her face and she is extremely aware of the distance between them. Actually, there barely is any distance between them. "I was faking most of it." She admits, feeling like a small child compared to the mature essence that is him.

Something about him changes and he pulls his hand away, looking downward. Softly he admits, "So was I."

Her eyes flash to his face. A new feeling overwhelms her, begging her to leap down from the counter and do a cartwheel. He was faking it. Faking. Pretending. He wasn't flirting with her at all. She wants to take a deep breath but forces her body to rebel against such desire. And there he is, looking at her with those eyes again. The eyes that could made her knees weak, with an expression of honesty to match. She doesn't do anything but stare at him now. She is speechless. Elena Gilbert is speechless.

"You're good, now." He states, placing the medicine bottle back onto the counter. She nods once, about to jump down when suddenly there is his hand there. She takes it, leans onto him for support, and plops herself from the sink counter. The electric tension between them buzzes and skyrockets off of its charts as they do not let go of eachothers' hands. She looks up at his face, her eyes trailing over his lips instinctively.

He is intoxicating. "I'm sorry, Elena." he whispers.

"Hmm?" she asks. "For what?"

"For..not being there. I should of known…felt..something wrong with the plan. Should of kept a better eye on you." He admits, brow creasing in guilt. She shakes her head.

"You couldn't of known. It's alright. I'm fine. Stefan's fine. Even Ric. It was…a crazy mess. I-" she stops midsentence, wondering if and should she go on. She looks down.

"What?" he asks softly. She shakes her head, murming a 'nevermind', and he presses further. "What were you going to say?"

"I was…" she begins, her face so close to his. She could almost taste his breath, their hands still squeezing eachother. "I was going to say that I was glad you weren't there. Glad because..you would of done anything to get into that car. To help Stefan. And..that frightens me. I would of been worried about you." She is now staring deep into his eyes, silently pleading for him to understand even though she's positive that he will.

He simply nods. "You're right, I would of done anything to get into that car." There is silence between them before she whispers, "Good night, Damon." and begins to descend from the room. He lets go of her hand and it falls limply by her side. Somehow, she feels less warm without him holding even the simplest part of her. She feels incomplete.

He stops her before she gets to leave. "Elena?"

She looks behind her, seeing him with a very serious and caring face. A face she has seen plenty of times before. "Not just for Stefan. I would do anything to get in there to save you, too."

She studies him, finding love in his eyes. She can't count how many times she's caught him looking at her like that. But there is something else, for when she looks into the mirror she catches herself looking at _him_ like that. This frightens her, so she quickly turns back to Damon and away from the mirror.

"Thank you." She whispers. He nods, and she leaves the room quietly. He remains there, watching the love of his life descend.


End file.
